Back Lash
by Double Your Pleasure
Summary: She was coming back; trying to forget everything that had happened before she left but one person just didn't want to let her. A Lita fic.
1. What's In A Name?

**This would be my first WWE fanfiction in a long time; although I have never produced any on this website. Hopefully it'll work out. I apologize for any OOC-ness of John and Randy because I simply haven't watched WWE in such a long time that I'm struggling to place them perfectly. That being said; I'm trying. Now; read and review is all that's left to say.  
**

* * *

"Alanna, huh?" Amy mused, winding a stray strand of hair around her finger as she spoke into the receiver. It was a rare occasion when Randy called the former diva and she now remembered why - it was impossible to hang up, after a while. "I guess it's alright. I don't like name's that begin with A though…"

"You're a retard," she heard him mutter into the receiver. "Amy begins with A, you know?" He cast a sideways glance to his pregnant wife, splayed out across the bed, fast asleep. It was understandable that she was sleeping - it was five am - but he felt quite resentful that she was able to sleep so easily and yet here he was, having to pester the resident insomniac to keep himself busy. "But yeah…Samantha picked it. I wanted something a bit…different."

"You are not calling your child Corona, Randy. No matter how good the beer is," Amy reminded the Legend Killer, laughing at his idiocy. "And for your information I know fine well what my name begins with. I just don't happen to like my name."

"I do."

Amy raised an eyebrow, pulling her receiver back from her cheek, staring at it incredulously, shaking her head and putting it right back where it had been seconds before. It was so unlike Randy to reply in such a simple way - he had quite a way with words, to say the least. "That's nice, I guess…" Amy replied.

"I offered that as a name for the baby but Samantha said no."

So that would be why he had replied so simply. "I don't think it's quite appropriate to call your child after the woman it's mother sees as 'her only competition'."

Amy could almost hear Randy cringe at her words. "I still can't believe she said that…" he replied, this time so much quieter, his words barely audible. "And on national radio, too. I really….I can't say sorry enough…" A soft sigh from Samantha made Randy jump, hastily turning to watch his wife. It was bad enough that he was on the phone to a woman at five am while she slept, but Amy? That was almost as bad as committing murder in Samantha's eyes.

"You should sleep Randy…" Amy said, just as quietly although there was no one to hear her, except Randy. She was alone, like most nights. Almost every night she curled up in her double bed, her dog McKenzie curled by her feet, with no one beside her, no one to kiss her goodnight and no one to talk to her when - as usual - she couldn't sleep. "It's late."

"You should too, but you won't." he said, defiantly, like a child resisting sleep. To be perfectly honest, that's exactly what he was doing. Sure, earlier, he couldn't sleep but now, tiredness had most definitely caught up with him. But he didn't want to hang up on Amy. Amy was a friend, and a good one at that, but more than that, she was lonely, although she'd never tell him in so many words. It was the little things she said, or the things that she didn't.

"Not out of choice, Orton," Amy replied, sounding tired and bored of the conversation. "Just go to sleep Randy, and I'll send you a text or something in the morning…"

"Fine…" Randy sighed, not bothering to say goodbye as he pressed the 'end call' button. Amy could be horribly stubborn when she wanted to and he had no intention of arguing with her. That being said, his lack of farewells was more to do with the fact that he hated that word 'goodbye' and he used it as little as possible. If it didn't have to be said, he wouldn't say it. And tonight, it didn't.

* * *

Sliding back into bed, the Legend Killer felt a cold hand reach out to touch his forearm. "Who was that?" Samantha mumbled, her voice full of sleep. She knew perfectly well who it was - who it always was - but it was always best to act innocent, she thought.

"Amy." Randy replied coldly, not willing to fight with his wife over something that didn't exist.

"You always get so defensive when we talk about her," Samantha said casually, clearing her throat and pushing herself up into a sitting position. "I don't understand why, if nothing's going on…" Samantha had always been the suspicious type, but her suspicion of Amy was beyond a joke. She was hell bent on proving that there was - or at least that there had been - something between the Legend Killer and The Queen of Extreme. "You know…You could tell me if…Before I came along…."

"Nothing happened, Sam," Randy replied shaking his head, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. "Amy and I are friends - she helped me out when I first started in the business. I'm grateful for that and…She's a friend Sam, that's all." It had become a common argument in the Orton household, Samantha accusing Randy of cheating - more than often with Amy - and Randy fervently denying it. He had never cheated on her, and he never would - he just wished she could see this, that she could see past her prejudice with Amy and accept that the two were friends.

"And there we go again. You always defend her Randy. She's not a saint, you know. She's done a lot of horrible shit. A lot. And yet you seem to paint her as….as….as the virgin Mary. Well I hate to tell you this, Randy, but that bitch ain't no virgin." Samantha fumed, her face slowly darkening to a deep red colour. The brunette slipped back into bed, turning her back on her husband and muttering "You of all people should know that…"

* * *

In Atlanta, the night had gone just as restlessly. Amy tossed and turned for hours after Randy had hung up but sleep had failed to greet her. Instead, she had lay in her bed, her body not taking up even half of the available space, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make patterns in the small bumps in the stone. After spotting a bunny rabbit licking a fish, an ice cream cone in a fire and half of an elephant, Amy came to the conclusion that she was most definitely, undeniably insane. And yet, she liked it that way. What she didn't like, however, was the loneliness that seemed to engulf her at night. That, she had decided, was the reason she couldn't sleep at night. The fact that there was no arm around her to help her sleep and no one to tire her out so that sleep was inevitable. There hadn't been anyone, not really, for four years.

Since the night she and Jay had split up.

She often wondered if he thought of that night - she was almost certain he did - but now, things had changed. He was married, happily married and she was here, alone. Unhappily alone. It wasn't his fault though - of course not. She had been the one to push him away, the one to push him from his own hotel room to leave her alone in peace. She had been the one who had waited until the next night - Monday night - and had turned up backstage at the arena, acting as though nothing had happened between the two. She had been the one who had broken his heart.

But now, morning had arrived - although technically it had been morning when she had been hung up on - and she was finally able to get out of bed, go downstairs and make breakfast. Once downstairs, the former diva rolled up the sweats she wore to bed, pushed up the sleeves of her shirt and began cracking eggs. Ring. Ring. "Fuck," Amy muttered, as she continued to beat the eggs. "Hold on!" she called, although she knew the person calling her couldn't hear. Ring. Ring. "Just a second…"

"Amy, this is Vince. I, uh, I guess you never thought you'd hear me say this - but we need you. Ratings have slumped and…Call me when you have a moment - I know you're busy." and with that, the call finished and a resounding beep came from the answer phone.

"Vince?" she repeated, still beating the eggs, although with much less fervour now. "This has to be a joke…" Amy had left the company - a choice of her own - almost two years ago now and there had been no talks of her resigning with the company. She had been approached by TNA, of course, but even that she had refused. If she was to ever wrestle again, it would have to be with WWE. And the Raw brand, at that.

After putting the eggs on to fry, Amy rushed to the phone, not to call Vince, but to call Randy. She hastily dialled his number, crushing the phone to her ear as it began to ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing. Ring. Ring. No answer. After letting it ring twice more, the diva gave up - tackling the stairs two at a time to grab her cell phone from the bedside table where she had left it that morning. Quickly, she tapped out a text message, informing him about Vince's call and pressing send impatiently. And then, once she had composed herself, she began slowly walking down the stairs, thinking about her predicament. She would have to think it through, over her eggs.

* * *

"So I get her into the room and she's all strippin' off and she was mad keen - I swear man, she wanted me. So she's butt naked and - " John Cena was cut off from rambling about his conquest from the night before - Randy had already heard the story twice on the way to the arena and it was getting quite tedious, but this was not the reason he stopped his friend.

"Vince asked Amy to come back." he said, staggered. "She's thinking about it…"

"Alright," John nodded enthusiastically, his disappointment at being cut off long forgotten now. John had always had a soft spot for Amy and had always treated her like 'one of the guys', something she was immensely glad of. They had been friends of sorts before she left and John had taken on a sort of brother-like roll when Jay and Randy had both been shipped to Smackdown in 2005. To say the least he would have been glad to have her back. "So when's she startin'?"

"Still thinking about it…" Randy said, still shocked at Amy's text. She had, just the previous night, told him that there was no way that she would ever return - "Not in a month of Sundays," she had said, shaking her head, although he couldn't see. "Wrestling…It's not for me. Not anymore."- and he felt almost cheated that she was now considering it. "She said she wouldn't ever come back, last night. I asked her…"

"What did you want with Red?" John asked, his top lip turning slightly in confusion.

"I couldn't sleep and…I knew I wouldn't be waking anybody up if I called her…" Randy replied, shrugging his shoulders. That was the main reason for calling her, although her unhappiness had played some part in it. "From what Stacy said…" Randy swallowed before continuing; blaming himself for a lot of what he was about to say. "Amy's always alone now."

"She's gunna end up like Jeff if she keeps on actin' like this," John input, nodding wisely. "All shut in to herself and shit. We gotta change that. How 'bout a trip to Atlanta - home of the greatest rappers, except for me?"

"Yeah, that would go down great with Samantha. 'Sorry, love, I know you're seven months pregnant and all but I'm off to visit Amy, the only woman you actually seem to hate.' Yes, I can just see her reaction now," Randy replied. And he could. Although it was more like a scene from a horror movie, blood everywhere and him dead, rather than a vision. "I think we just have to wait until she comes back. If she does…"

* * *

"It would be purely on your terms, Amy," Vince spoke quietly into the phone. "You'd be the one doing us a favour. But really, I think you should drop by - we're doing a live taping in Atlanta in three weeks, perhaps you could pop in? Just for a chat. To see what storylines would work for you."

Amy nodded sagely. She had never imagined returning to the company but they had given her her break, paid for her cars and her home, given her a million fans and a lifetime of opportunities and she felt indebted to them. She had to give them something back. "I uh…I guess I'll see you in three weeks time," she said, her dry throat evident when she spoke. "Goodbye Boss." With a small smile playing at her lips, the newly re-hired diva placed the phone back on the handset. She never thought she'd call Vince McMahon 'Boss' again. But then again; there was a lot of things she thought she'd never do again.


	2. A Close Second

**To berry charismatic; there will be a 'love interest' - or maybe two, if I'm feeling naughty - later on in the story although the possible second one has not been decided. Thank you for reviewing, and you too alana2awesome.**

I should point out that this is not written in a specific time period; namely because I haven't been watching Raw for over a year. It's set roughly April/May and Randy Orton, John Cena, John Morrison and Chris Jericho are all present on the Raw Roster. Any changes I make to the rosters will be added in the author's note before the chapter they appear in.

* * *

Amy Dumas's house was not particularly flashy - it didn't stand out from the row of houses on her street. They all had the same stone walls, the same white door, the same gravel filled driveways and the same flower bushes by the front door; although Amy's flowers seemed to shy away from the sunlight and she was left with shrubs. - but it was what she called home. That Sunday night at almost eleven pm, however, it looked far from homely - all the lights were turned off, the curtains drawn tightly and there was no inclination that anyone was in. Even the car was well hidden in the garage. In fact, the only thing which proved that the house was inhabited was the faint light coming from the bedroom directly above the front door.

Amy hadn't left her room in well over four hours, not even to eat, drink or use the bathroom. Instead, she lay motionless, staring at the TV before her, moving images of herself all over the screen. "And that, King," came J.R's southern drawl from the speakers. "Is why Lita is Women's Champion." She smiled softly towards the TV, her eyes focused on the image of her pinning her challenger Victoria. It had been a while since she'd watched her old wrestling tapes - her best bits - and she now remembered why. She was so overly critical, finding faults in the slightest of things. As the sound of Boy Hit Car filled the screens, Amy turned the sound down. Match over. And what a sloppy one it had been, too. Grabbing a notepad and pen - which had just recently been thrown aside - the redhead began jotting down notes. "Dropkicks," she said as she wrote. "Must be more accurate - I coulda taken Lisa's head off…" shaking her own head, she continued to make notes on almost every move she had used, determined that, if she was going to rejoin the roster, she was going to be on top form when she did.

Pausing, the diva tilted her head to the side. She needed something new - something flashy. Something that no diva had done before. She needed a guy's finisher. And it had to be pretty damn powerful. And that was where he would come in - Chris Jericho, the man currently gracing her screen. The Walls of Jericho had always been so trademarked, so definitely his that no one had ever really gone there - but if she could get him on her side, then maybe it could become…theirs. Or at least, she could borrow it for the time being, until she worked up to the Enziguiri, one move she had never been able to master. She would need Chris's help - and fast.

The diva groped around, searching for her cell phone - "I'm sure I had it a minute ago," she said, felling around under her pillows and even checking under McKenzie, who had taken to sleeping on top of her possessions. - for a few seconds before finally grabbing the duvet cover and yanking, sending her notebook, pen, remote control and cell phone - as well as McKenzie - flying. She patted the mongrel as way of an apology before hurriedly grabbing her cell from the floor and scanning her phone book for Chris's number.

"Hey, this is Chris. I can't take your call right now but leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeppppp! Nah. I gotcha. But really, leave a message," came the dulcet tones of Chris Irvine's voice - the pre-recorded message on his voice mail as idiotic as the man who recorded it and just as aggravating in Amy's eyes.

"Chris," she began, her voice almost quivering with excitement. Her mouth was dry and her tongue seemed to be sticking where it lay. "Chris, it's Amy - I was wondering if you'd meet up with me tomorrow at the Gym. You know, Black's? Down by the arena? It's pretty urgent." She pulled the phone from her ear, ready to press the end call button but changed her mind, hurriedly adding. "And bring your wrestling stuff." And with that, the new diva pressed the end call button and began calmly re-making her bed, certain that she wouldn't get any sleep tonight.

* * *

"I dunno man, she's gettin' on a bit, ya know?" John Cena commented, a pair of Nike shorts covering his legs and a pair of high tops on his feet. He was laying flat out on a bench, a bottle of water raised to his lips as he took a well deserved sip. It was barely eight am and yet he - as well as Randy and their new sidekick, John Morrison - had been at Black's Gym for almost two hours. "Yeah she's got a nice rack an' everythin' but…Man she's pushing thirty-five. That's…that's old."

"Says the guy who thinks my mom is hot," Randy commented from beside him.

"I said she looked good in that one photo. Your never gunna let me live that down, are ya?" John retaliated, throwing the almost empty bottle at his friend, who simply shook his head. "All I'm sayin' is that Trish is…she's past it. She's up there with Moolah and Mae now."

"But Amy isn't?" Morrison countered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "That's double standards, Cena. If anything, Amy's older than Trish - so why is it okay for her to still be considered hot? Why is okay for her to come back to the WWE? Why not Trish?"

"Because, smartass," Randy replied, rather than Cena. "Amy left due to personal reasons. Trish left because her fitness was deteriorating. She couldn't keep up with Candice for Christ's sake. And why is Amy still considered hot? Have you seen her body? Properly seen it?" Randy paused for dramatic effect. "No. Not many guys have. That is why she's still hot." John Morrison stared at the Legend Killer in surprise. Since Samantha had come along, Randy had pretty much ceased to have any opinion on the divas, or any other women for that matter, and yet here he was, quite openly admitting that Amy was hot. "And besides…she has a nice ass."

"Yeah behind those baggy ass pants that she has to wear four belts with…" Cena input, shaking his head. "You can't see it. How d'you know its 'nice'?"

"Bra and Panties matches?" Morrison wondered aloud, still shocked that the most conservative diva of all had managed to rouse Randy from his somewhat catatonic state.

"Uh, yeah," Randy replied, wiping the back of his neck with a towel and walking towards the showers, the image of Amy's ass still playing on his mind.

"He's uh…weird with Amy. She's like his sister, ya know?" Cena spoke in a dramatic whisper, hoping that the younger man wouldn't hear him.

"Bullshit, Cena. You don't say your sister has a nice ass," Morrison laughed, raking a hand through his damp hair. "Was there ever…you know…something between them?"

"Shut up, Morrison," John replied, his face screwed up as though a nasty smell had passed just below his nose. "That is disgustin' and he'll kick your ass if he hears you talkin' like that…"

* * *

"It'll be just like old times," squealed the new Mrs. Copeland, her voice quivering as she did so. "I'll call up Alexis and tell her, of course and then - well we both know Trish is gone for good. She'll have a bun in the oven next - but we could always get Barbs in on the little gang? I know she's a little young, Ames but she's ever so nice…"

"Do you ever shut up, Candice?" Amy replied, massaging her temples as she called across the room to her bed where Candice Michelle-Copeland was playing with McKenzie. Her clothes were strewn all around her as she tried to find her old sweats but all plans had been thrown into a state of disarray the moment Candice had turned up The brunette had ditched her new husband within minutes of hitting the tarmac at Hartsfield Jackson Airport and hopped a cab straight to Amy's house. The news of Amy's return had travelled quickly and almost everyone was talking about it - she was the hottest piece of news and everyone wanted to know the real story.

"I'm just excited, is all," the former Women's Champion grinned from the bed, fluffing up McKenzie's fur. "Although I have to admit, I shouldn't be speaking to you at all. Cena knew before me, Ames. That hurt. That hurt a lot. I mean, Orton I can understand, you two were close as hell. But Cena?" The brunette turned her attention back to the dog, shaking her hair absently and cooing, "Your mommy doesn't have a clue does she? She's going to be the star attraction tonight."

"Look, Candice…" Amy said, finally hauling on a pair of faded grey sweats which only reached her calves. She tugged for a few moments before realizing that they were supposed to end there. "I kinda have to be somewhere. Or I shoulda been there - fifteen minutes ago. Can we, you know, catch up later? I just…I promised someone I'd meet them."

"Randy? Ooh I'll come too," Candice jumped from the bed, smoothing down her shirt.

"No. Not Randy. Chris," Amy registered a look of confusion on the younger woman's face. "Irvine. Chris Irvine."

"Why would you want to meet up with Chris Irvine? I didn't think you two were good friends anymore? I mean…after he left, you didn't even seem upset-"

Before Candice could start on another rambling story, Amy cut in. "Fitness, Candice. He's helping me train up."

"Oh," Candice screwed up her face - training up was not high on her list of thins to do. Every time she was 'match fit' she would get in the ring, only to end up injured again - she was sure she was the unluckiest wrestler ever. "Well I guess I'll see you tonight, huh?" Amy nodded and motioned to show her towards the door. "I, uh, I'll get it myself. And Amy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're coming back. We've all missed you. Especially me."

"Me too." Amy smiled, grabbing the woman as they reached the door and pulling her in for a tight hug.

"But Randy's a close second, you know…"


End file.
